


the little boy who sang this song for you

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-20
Updated: 2010-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:05:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt finds the only gay club in Lima. Mike dances.</p><p>Written for the Kurt/Mike Summer Love Fest 2010. <br/>Prompt: (13) Both sneak into a gay bar during senoir spring break and happen to run into each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the little boy who sang this song for you

A/N: If you've never been to a gay club: here's your chance ;) I have no idea what they're like in the USA, but I figure they might be the same everywhere on earth! :P

~~~

 

There is exactly one dance club for gays in Lima, Ohio. It's located on North Street, right next to Happy Daz, and considering that just a year ago Kurt was convinced of being the only gay kid in town, the turn-up is amazingly high.

It's Friday night, which explains some but not all of the boys and girls who have suddenly crawled out of the wall cracks to have a good gay time. He also hopes that maybe, just maybe, of the more than few dozen homosexuals in this place, one might after all be willing to go to Prom with him. You never know.

 

Kurt has never seen a real-life drag queen before, but the moment he sets his eyes on her, he's in love. She's older, certainly past fifty, and when she embraces people near her, she can fit three, sometimes four lithe, slender-bodied boys into her arms.

It's midnight when she introduces herself as Antoinette and starts singing with a booming voice into the microphone someone's handed to her. A circle of queers forms around her impressively sized figure. She starts out with some classics: Madonna, Anastacia, Barbra Streisand; but soon, the selection deteriorates into filthier-than-Kurt-remembers reditions of Miss Saigon and finally, ' _I am what I am_ ', accompanied by loud singing, growling and yelling depending on the state of drunkenness of the patrons.

The club isn't huge, but it's big enough to have a comfortable bar, a section that seals more private areas with seating, and a dance floor. There's a cage, which Kurt finds horribly tacky, pure overkill aside.

He doesn't feel out of place, though, and that's what matters. He's not someone who contemplates the woes of his life a lot, but it is rather hard to fit in with a bunch of guys whose main goal in life is to score a touchdown. And he's not a girl. He can _try_ , but he's not kidding himself that it will ever be enough.

Here, losing himself in the grinding, swaying rhythm of it all, he dances. Once Antoinette bows out, they play club music: technofied Gaga, some Kanye West. He's never had trouble moving to fast, sexy beats, and in a matter of seconds, a few boys crowd around him, trying to get his attention. He dances with all of them. He's never laughed so much in one night, going down on his knees to 'Like a Prayer', and jumping up and down when they play 'Jump'. It's spring break, he's going to college in the fall. He's never had sex, but in he back of his mind, he wonders if he's going to get lucky tonight.

It's about two in the morning and he's getting a glass of coke at the bar, flirting shyly with the hot, piercing-covered bartender, when there's a commotion on the dance floor. A few of the girls who've long lost their tops and have been crazily dancing in just their bras, are hollering loudly, and there's scattered applause and yells of "Go! Go! Go! Go!"

"What's going on?" Kurt asks the woman next to him, rising to his tip-toes to catch a glimpse over the heads of the crowd.

She grins widely. "You're new?"

Kurt's face floods with heat, and he's glad that he was flushed from the dancing to begin with. "Yeah," he says. He takes a sip of his drink.

"You're in for a treat, then. Push through to the front. We've got a dancer who comes in regularly Fridays to show off his newest choreography to the adoring public. He's _amazing_. And," she leers, her pink-painted eyes crinkling at the corners, "he takes his shirt off sometimes, too." She toasts him with something that looks like pure vodka and downs it in one.

Kurt is intrigued. Not because of the shirtlessness of it all - a few of the guys have lost their shirts by now, so apparently it's not an uncommon occurrence, and he's had his fill of ogling. It's more the part where the guy is a dancer, and must be _really_ good if the response from the crowd is any indication.

They're playing 'Say Goodbye to Love' and Kurt mouths along as he makes his way to the front,   
" _It's got my mind in a twist hey hey  
I can't think or see straight hey hey_."

Kurt's small, smaller than a good many people here, so no one really minds him pushing through. And then he's at the front and his jaw drops to the floor in surprise. This is not what he was expecting at all.

Mike Chang is wearing a thin cotton tank top and jeans that are glued to his ass. They're hanging so low it stands to reason they're only being kept up by the quick rotation of his hips as he dances, high kicks varying with smooth, fluid gestures of his arms, his feet following effortlessly. His face should be a mask of deep concentration; instead, he's smiling a little half-smile that makes a dark, heated sensation curl low in Kurt's stomach. His eyes are almost closed, lashes brushing his cheekbones. He's clearly lost in the dance, oblivious to the crowd around him.

Kurt has seen Mike dance before - in Glee club, Mike is always up and out of his seat the moment it seems like movement is a necessary component. He does choreography, and whenever Kurt's gaze slips past him, his leg's jiggling like he cannot sit still. But this is different: this is his element, a stage he does not have to share with stars whose only pretense are their voices.

"He's amazing, isn't he?" a short, stocky boy says to Kurt. He never takes his eyes off Mike.

"He is," Kurt hears himself say. It's incredibly hard to look away, so he doesn't.

 

~*~

 

He doesn't approach Mike that evening; he goes home after the dancing's over, completely forgetting about his plan to maybe get laid, or even score a date. Why hurry, after all, when he'll be back the next day.

On Saturday, just past noon, when he's a little more lucid after two coffees and breakfast, he pulls up his laptop and starts a search. In school, he's never been friends with Mike or his clique, so they're not friends on facebook. But he knows Tina is, and he has Tina's log-in because she's used his computer before while he watched over her shoulder. So he logs in as her.

Mike's facebook is full of recced dancing videos, exclamation points about racing movies and superheroes and also, cat macros. Kurt groans a little. Disappointingly, he only lists his favorite books, religious view and a quote, _Those who hear not the music think the dancers mad_ , which is nice, but not the 'Interested In' section Kurt wants answers about.

He's not even sure why he's looking. It's just curiosity, he tells himself, and closes the page.

Then he re-opens the page and looks again. There's a link to a youtube channel at the very bottom, with tons of comments by people Kurt knows if not personally than from sight. He spends the rest of the afternoon watching videos of Mike dancing, or giving lessons, teaching kids how to dance.

 

~*~

 

His dad is watching TV when Kurt goes upstairs that evening, ready for another night out dancing. It's Saturday, which means the garage was especially busy and his dad will be fairly dead to the world. It's only ten pm as well, which is just about early enough not to induce too much parental concern.

"You going out?" he asks without turning his head in Kurt's direction.

"Yes. Don't wait up, I'll be late," Kurt replies and hurries outside. He is thankful that he gets to sneak out without his father seeing his outfit; if the sparkly t-shirt and the make-up weren't enough of a hint, the fact that Kurt has styled his hair in Elvis manner and has pulled out the leather jacket from the depths of his closet would be enough to tip even his dad off about what's going in.

His dad probably thinks he's going to one of his friends, having a sleepover with the girls. He's been asking Kurt whether he's going to take one of them to Prom, with a strange look in his eyes like maybe he's still not quite given up on that dream. It hurts, but just a little. His dad means well. Kurt knows he just wants his son to have the same great experience he himself had in high school with Kurt's mom.

The thing is, Kurt has not told anyone what he's up to, not even Mercedes. He wonders himself why not - he usually tells her everything and he's not ashamed of going to a gay club, not really. But maybe it's a possessiveness thing. Maybe he just doesn't want to share this experience yet. Everyone needs a little secrecy in their life, he figures. He tries not to think about it too much.

Instead, he focuses on the good things. One of those good things about 'Somewhere in Time', which is the name of the club and makes Kurt smile every time he thinks about it, is that it's smack in the middle of Lima, which places it a fifteen minutes' walk away from his home. Last night, he wasn't quite sure of the distance, so he took the car - but tonight, he's walking, which also means he can get a drink or two. His fake ID sits comfortably in his back pocket, courtesy of Puck who has turned out to be somewhat of an unwitting enabler when it comes to Kurt's new secret double life.

There are people milling outside the club, smoking or talking or making out against the wall of the building. Kurt ducks his head and tries not to stare too obviously, half-embarrassed, half elated that this is actually possible, that it's _real_. The only time he's seen two people of the same sex kiss has been on TV, and that's not the same thing.

Inside, the music is going on a heavy beat. It's hot and smoky. The atmosphere is different from the night before; this is darker somehow, more languid and sexy. He wasn't expecting it, but even so, it only makes his heart beat faster with excitement and anticipation. It definitely doesn't make him turn on his heel to leave.

He leaves his jacket on one of the seats near the dance floor and looks around. He recognizes a few of the faces from the night before. Two of the guys he's danced with are there today, too, waving at him when they recognize him. And by the bar, laughing with a pretty boy hanging onto his arm, Mike.

Kurt takes a deep breath. He lets it out, and someone puts their hands on his shoulders, making him jump.

"What's with the sigh, kid?" The man is older, end-thirties, shaved head. He has a nice smile, friendly eyes. "Your crush?" He nods towards the bar.

"N-no," Kurt says. "Classmate."

"Ah. Well, he's here, so chances are if you don't rat him out, he won't do you."

"Oh, no, no, I'm not - concerning that, I'm really obvious," Kurt laughs, surprised. "Everyone at school knows about me, at least... you know."

The man smiles again, amused. "Good for you. Wanna dance?"

Kurt glances over to Mike and his - the boy by his side and bites his lip. He nods. Why not. After all, he's here to have fun.

 

~*~

 

When the next song comes on, the man leaves him to one of the younger boys who's been giving Kurt interested glances and goes to get a drink. Kurt didn't even catch his name, but it's all right because he's sure they'll see each other again. The blond twink who puts his arms around Kurt's waist looks relieved that Kurt doesn't leave the dance floor.

"I've been wanting to ask you to dance since you came in," he mumbles, all coyness and timidity.

Kurt feels a responding heat in his own cheeks. "Oh," he says. "Thanks?"

Beyoncé plays loudly from the speakers, and they're just getting into the rhythm, dancing, twining into each other, when someone grabs his elbow. "Eves, do you mind?"

Kurt's new friend, who apparently goes by the name of Eves, lets go of Kurt's hips and steps back. Kurt turns around and stares at Mike incredulously. Eves looks sullen, but not like he's about to protest.

Mike doesn't seem to get that he's interrupting, or maybe he doesn't care. He just shrugs and says, "Come on, Hummel. I'll get you a drink."

"I was dancing," Kurt gives a token protest. He follows anyway.

"Eves'll be here for a while. Don't mind him, he always does the shy boy routine and most new guys fall for it."

"What?"

"He's playing you. He likes to seduce the new kids." Mike grins. "Didn't think he'd hit on you, though, you're not really his type."

Kurt has no idea what to make of that, so he crosses his arms in front of his chest and asks, "What's his type?"

"Jocks," Mike says shortly.

"Ah." Kurt gets it. When Mike raises an eyebrow in question and nods at the bartender, Kurt says, "Whatever you're getting."

Mike nods again. "Two Seven-and-Sevens," he orders and then gestures for Kurt to sit down. "I was wondering when you'd turn up here."

"You did? Oh, right." Kurt remembers that it's the only such establishment in town, which makes it a little more likely, in a strange way. Mike's words imply that he's actually thought about Kurt. About Kurt coming here. It's... comforting and alluring at the same time.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he asks in turn so he can be sure.

Mike, looking mischievous, drop of sweat rolling down the side of his face, takes their drinks and hands one over. "I was looking for a job last year, something where I could dance," he explains. "This space is rented out during the day to rehearsals and theater productions or festivities. They had flyers out, announcing the club opening. I was curious."

Kurt takes a sip and tries not to grimace at the unfamiliar taste. Mike must notice anyhow because his smile turns wider. He doesn't say anything though, which is just as well; Kurt might have ended up tipping the glass into his lap otherwise.

"And yeah," Mike adds, and his face is composed again as he studies his glass. "I'm mostly gay. Just in case you wanted to know."

Kurt swallows another gulp of his drink and coughs out, "Yeah. Me too." It's still not easy to say. He wonders if it'll ever get easier.

They look at their drinks in awkward silence, but when their gazes meet a blink later, there's a sudden sense of camaraderie between them, sprung up from just this one shared moment. Kurt bites his bottom lip and ignores the pooling heat in his pants that has much less to do with friendship, and much more with the things he'd like to do to Mike's mouth.

 

~*~

 

Kurt dances with Eves, and dumps him the moment he gets frisky. "Tease," Eves mutters sourly in his direction and takes off. Kurt snickers into his hand.

"Oooh, I like you," a girl mouths at him. She was watching them with interest over her dance partner's shoulder and is grinning widely after Eves. She has a long ponytail and carefully curled eyelashes.

Kurt puts his hands on his hips and sways with the unrecognizable beat, a vogue in between songs as the DJ tries to find a clean break between the early part of the night and the new mood that's settling. Then the music breaks off without warning. The dancers scatter, people looking up to the booth as a microphone crackles. Kurt's heart starts beating wildly when he recognizes Mike.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen," Mike greets with a dorky wave, and someone hollers, "And everyone in between!"

Mike laughs. "Right. You too, scarecrow." There are giggles and scattered laughs from the audience in response. "It's almost midnight, you know what that means." The girls next to Kurt start screaming and cheering and he has to take a step to the side and cover his ear not to get his eardrums punctured. "Yeah. Karaoke! I'm just a fill-in because George's out of town today, but I hope it'll be fun with me, too. I'm going to start this off, and then I'll be playing Lady Luck and picking people at random from the audience, so be afraid, be very afraid. Oh, and stop right there, Douglas, you know you're up today, don't even try to get away! I've told the bouncers to put you in chains if you try!"

More laughter from the audience. Apparently, everyone knows Douglas. Kurt nudges the girls and asks, "Who's that?"

"Douglas?" the girl asks. She laughs. "He's an opera singer. But he's shy. Mike's been trying to get him to sing for ages."

"Ah," Kurt nods. "Maybe he should offer that Douglas could sing some Britney Spears instead." All around him, people start grinning and a few laughs come his way, and warmth washes over him when he realizes people aren't laughing at him. They actually think it's a good idea, and someone snarks, "I think Prince Poppycock is more his type."

Then the music starts, and Kurt's attention is back on Mike, who seems to have no shame at all when he starts off with a pitch-perfect rendition of "If I were Gay". He's gorgeous. His face is shining in the spotlight and Kurt can see how much he's enjoying this, dancing along as his voice booms from the loudspeakers. The whole club roars along, and Kurt feels himself drawn along when the girls from before take him by the arms, one each, and start bellowing the refrain into his ears, twirling him around.

 

~*~

 

He doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed when Mike announces the last person to sing and it's not him. He was half-expecting Mike to pick on him; but he was also half-looking forward to it, because he has been practicing 'Summer Nights' for the Musical assignment Mr. Shue has given them for their next Glee session, and he knows, he just knows that he could have found someone in the audience who would have helped with the second set of vocals.

Instead, he listens to an older queen's perfectly acceptable rendition of "Yellow Submarine", and then it's over already. It's going on one am, and people have had enough of singing along and cheering and applauding the wanna-be starlets; they want to go back to dancing.

When Yellow Submarine's over, Mike takes the microphone and says, "I know I promised this would be the last, but indulge me. I want to share one more with you guys - or rather, with one guy in particular. The rest of you, feel free to go back to the dancing though, because this will be very corny."

He clears his throat and Kurt meets his eyes over the crowd. His whole body goes up in flames when Mike gives him a sultry smile and says, "Right. Here it goes!" and starts singing,

 _[Burn, I'm sitting home,  
And I'm all alone,  
And I don't hear no phone  
I need a hot shot](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O0bPyCR9Kwc) _

Burn, it's Friday night,  
And I ain't feeling right,  
There ain't no man in sight  
I need a hot shot  
Hot shot, hot shot!"

Mike's only a few more steps away from Kurt when he cracks up laughing and lets the music play some beats without vocals; Kurt can feel himself turn crimson, but then Mike's dancing up to him, shaking his butt, and holding the microphone under Kurt's nose, and Kurt is not going to pretend that he doesn't know the lyrics, because he does; so he rolls his eyes and they finish it together,

 _Ooh baby baby baby baby baby won't you feel it in my soul  
Come on now move it  
Hey I know you never never never never gonna lose control  
My side is burning, it's getting real hot,  
You know that I need me my shot_

Ooh, burn, I'm off the street  
And I feel the beat  
That drives out on my feet  
I need a hot shot.

 

~*~

 

"So, that was inspirational," Kurt tells him when they stumble out of the building past four am, barely holding onto each other. He feels hot and shivery at once, goosebumps wherever Mike's touching him. He has drunken three more of those Seven-and-Seven because after a while, they started tasting quite good.

"Wasn't it?" Mike grins. "Where you headed?"

"Home," Kurt tells him. "Just a few minutes that way." He points down the road, then does something funny with his hand he hadn't thought he _could_ do because it makes his wrist look dislocated, and says, "And then that way."

"Good," Mike says, and leans into his shoulder. "Because I'm not not driving my car anywhere tonight."

And that's how they end up sneaking down into Kurt's basement kingdom together. They giggle when Kurt cannot find his pyjamas and they both decide boxer shorts are fine.

Mike throws his t-shirt on the ground and sniffs himself. "Ugh," he mutters. "I stink of cigarettes. _I_ stink. I thought only clothes took on the lovely smell of that shit."

"Shhhh," Kurt murmurs into his arm, and snorts and wheezes, when laughter threatens to spill out again. "My dad."

"You have a dad?" Mike asks, and Kurt slaps his hip. "Shuddup," he says. "Bed. Sleep."

Mike yawns and shrugs and says, "Okay," and climbs in, pulling Kurt after him. They fall asleep immediately.

 

~*~

 

The next morning, Kurt wakes up to someone nuzzling his neck. Hot breath makes the little hairs on his nape stand up, and he wriggles comfortably when a hand slides up and down his side and down to his stomach, stroking over his navel.

Then he realizes there's something wrong with the picture and sits up.

"Did you just try and grope me in my sleep?" he asks because he can't think of anything else to say. He's fairly sure they didn't have sex last night. Mike. Mike, who's looking all rumpled and sleepy and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Suddenly Kurt wishes they'd actually had sex, because it would make this so much less awkward. Or more awkward. But then Kurt would actually get to make suggestive comments and invite Mike into the shower with him and if Mike said no then, hell, at least it wouldn't be this uncomfortable will-he-or-won't-he they have going right now.

Or rather, that Kurt has going on in his head, because Mike doesn't seem to care - or have anything in his head besides sleep and cuddles. Kurt lets himself fall back into the pillows and groans, sliding his hands over his face.

"We should go back to sleep," Mike yawns. "It's early."

It's not early - it's almost noon - but Kurt thinks that maybe Mike has a point.

They go back to sleep.

 

~*~

 

"Hey, sleepyhead - oh - god - Kurt?"

Kurt blinks awake and finds himself staring into the face of his dad, who looks a little bit panicked, and a little bit pissed and a lot like he's trying to hide whatever he's feeling, which is very much like what his dad always does.

Then Kurt remembers the peculiarity of the situation and sits up for the second time today. "Dad," he says, voice rough from disuse. "This is not what it looks like."

His dad puts his hands over his eyes and says, "We could have this discussion when you _both_ have some pants on."

And that, Kurt thinks, is a good point very well made.

 

~*~

 

After a shower - two showers, separate showers -, Kurt slinks upstairs to face the music. Mike follows with a few feet distance, looking a lot tamer and much more well-behaved now that he's wearing a pair of Kurt's old pants and a respectable shirt. His own things are stuffed in the washing machine along with Kurt's, hoping to escape notice of where exactly they hung out late last night.

"So we didn't actually have sex or anything," Kurt announces to his dad, talking so quickly his words blur together. "Just so you know. We didn't even kiss, for that matter, we just sort of came back and it was late and we fell asleep together."

"Right," his dad says, and gives Mike a long look.

Mike sinks into himself just a tiny bit. Kurt finds that very commendable of him. Extra points for courage, and for loyalty and all that, not abandoning the sinking ship, for whatever it's worth.

"Mike Chang," Mike finally scraps his manners together and holds out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Sir." He can be very charming if he wants to, but some circumstances permit nothing more than frightened rabbit-eyes.

"Right, right," his dad says again, and his dad might not be the most eloquent speaker, but he usually does have more to say than this.

"Dad," Kurt says again. "I honestly think the gravity of the situation is disproportional to the actual -"

"All right, why don't we try this one," his dad drowns him out by speaking loudly. "We all pretend like I spent Sunday morning watching CNN and _nothing else_ , and we're all much happier as a result."

Kurt deflates. "You don't watch CNN," he starts, but Mike steps on his foot and says, "Shhhh. Gift horse."

Kurt isn't sure whether he imagines the amused curling up of his dad's mouth, but it's not like it matters in the end because apparently, they'll be ignoring this until it goes away, which suits all of them just fine.

 

~*~

 

Well, almost. When Kurt shows Mike the front door, Mike catches his wrist and says, "Look. I know just because I'm gay and you're gay and all that, I know it doesn't have to mean we have to date, but what I'm trying to say - I mean, I know you're probably way picky or something, but if you wanted -"

Kurt rolls his eyes, steps up and plants a kiss on his mouth. "I'm never forgiving you for the Hot Shot song, though," he says when Mike blinks and licks his lips. "Practice Summer Nights. I'm singing it at Glee rehearsal with you. You can have Sandy's part."

"Gee, thanks."

"It's not a sacrifice I'd make for anyone!" Kurt puts his arms around himself and juts out his hip. "And maybe we can, you know." He shifts his weight onto his other leg. "Go dancing again. Last night was fun."

Mike smiles brilliantly. "It was, wasn't it? Except we should slow down on the drinks. I don't want your dad to kill me." Kurt smiles back, accepting another kiss, and lets him go. Mike walks a few steps, then he turns one more time and says, "By the way. I expect to be courted, if you were to start thinking of inviting me to Prom."

Kurt splutters. "You _wish_!"

Mike bats his eyelashes, turns back and starts jogging towards the parking lot near the club where he left his car. Kurt watches him vanish behind a street turn and then he turns around and goes inside. Under his breath, he sings, "A feeling, yeah hey like a feeling", and wonders how this sort of thing always happens to him a lot faster than he can keep up with.

"Does that mean you have a boyfriend now?" his dad asks, popping his head into sight.

Kurt squints. "Maybe?" he finally says. "Apparently, I have to court him to get him to go to Prom with me, though."

His dad looks uncertain for just a second before his eyebrows do the thing they always do whenever he has an idea and he says, "I do have an idea for that -"

And Kurt groans and mouths along, "You see, your mother and I, we had a _perfect_ Prom..."

 

~*~

~~ _written September 2010_


End file.
